


all is fair in love and war

by florenc



Category: Dreamwastaken, Minecraft - Fandom, dream - Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Coma, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, Minecraft, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29541291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florenc/pseuds/florenc
Relationships: Clay/Reader, Dream/Reader, Dreamwastaken/reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. all is fair in love..

"She doesn't know my name, George." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, almost closer to a huff than a sigh, honestly. His left hand ran over his face, a slight tremble detectable in his movements. His other hand held his phone close to his cheek, both the other sides of the line staying silent. 

Hesitation on his breath, George spoke up again, leaving a few seconds for his response, just offering some time for his friend to calm down. "She will, Dream."

"You don't know that." The blonde immediately retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of making him feel better. "Doctor said it could take years."

"Dude, you've been in love with this girl for years, when she didn't even know you existed at all," Sapnap interjected, somehow trying to relieve the tension by cracking a light joke. "I'm sure it'll work out again."

"Took her years to like me back." Clay chuckled, "I was obsessed." His mind was clouded by pictures of her, of them together. When they were just little kids, littering the streets for hours trying to find an agenda. Their teen years, how he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask her to prom, for years in a row. Her cheeky smile, expressive eyebrows, and those eyes he loved that much, those eyes that had been shut closed for days now. Fuck, he ran another hand over his face, up through his locks, he would never let her out of his sight again. Not when shit like this happened when he wasn't around. He'd never forgive himself for it, never let himself live it down. His eyebrows folded in agony, once again entirely overtaken by the idea of her not getting better, never becoming her old self anymore.

"Oh, we know, Dream." A slight chuckle breathed through his words, "She's so _cute_ , Nick, AH! She let me hold her hand!" He mimicked his friend with a higher tone of voice, the brit quickly joining in, "GEORGE! She added me back! I'm so pathetically in love with her, George."

"I hate you guys." His voice sounded meek, soft, vulnerable. He loved them with all his heart, always knowing how to lift his mood, how to comfort him when he needed them to. "Thank you, for -uh- everything."

"Yeah dude, of course." Nick's smile was shining through his voice, audible even through the wacky discord call. George kept silent, but it was clear; they'd always be there to help him get through whatever it was, for however long it was needed.

It took three months, two weeks and several days for him to get her to smile again, a few more days after that for a laugh, God knows he could use it. The glint that once occupied her gaze had now retaken its deserved place in her eyes again after all, her eyebrows finally dancing with her expressions once again. A few days ago, she'd even let him hold her hand while they watched TLC on the tiny little television in her hospital room. He'd bugged her about buying her a bigger one every time he came by, which was practically every day, now that he thought about it. 

His friends understood that he couldn't join their streams as often as before, they still offered him a spot in their Jackbox lobby every time, and Wilbur took it to himself to make sure he was never left out of the script, even if he bailed on them more often than not. It killed George especially, to see his friend like this, barely eating, sleeping all the time he wasn't spending sitting by her bed. He realized he'd never worried more about anyone than he did about Clay those hazy months. His own channels were suffering greatly, too, but that wasn't even close to being on his mind. 

"Hi there." Clay waved slightly, wiggling his fingers nervously as he opened the door to her room. His eyes glanced to hers, a faint smile on her features as she muttered out a greeting. His gaze flickered through the room. He remembered first coming here those weeks ago, the deadly white walls that caged him into his own mind, the panic that wouldn't leave his veins, no matter what he did. He'd sat there for hours, the nurses having to send him home every single day. The lack of personal items making him greatly uncomfortable. Gradually he would take more and more decorations into her room, starting with some flowers, bringing in several stacks of plushies a little later. George, Nick, and Darryl had decided to get together and get her a Switch, naturally, Darryl had convinced them to get the new Animal Crossing for her. Clay decided to throw in some Mario Kart, more for himself than his comatose girlfriend.  
Then, the news broke on Twitter, and the drawings flooded his PO box, the one he now apparently shared with her. Pictures upon pictures hung on her walls, he even went as far as getting her Christmas lights above her bed, some photos of their childhood, too. At this moment, her eyes had yet to see the light of day since her accident, he did it all in complete silence, perhaps a small part of him didn't just do it for her, but to calm his own nerves a little, too. 

But now, she was back. She played his dumb games with him, joked about his awful stubble, and thus, let him hold her hand, too. God, how he had missed the warmth of her fingers with his, anytime she'd let him touch her, shivers ran through his body; goosebumps covering the entirety of his skin. She'd loved the games they had collected for her over the course of these months, playing them daily. And even though she had no idea who these incredibly attentive people were, she knew she cared about them greatly. She'd asked Clay about them several times, even going as far as recording a short voice memo, thanking them for everything they'd done for her and Clay together. 

"How've you been?" His mellow voice made her senses tingle, familiarity had settled for a few days now, anytime he spoke she'd get flashes of warmth, radiating through her abdomen. He didn't know this, of course, because what if it was nothing? What if she just set him up for heartbreak once again? 

But he, he didn't care. His heart ached for her when they were together, but even more so when they were not. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself some of these days, realizing how pathetic it must look for everyone around him, how often he had sat beside her bed without a single affirmation of recognition, of progress. How often he had interrupted his friends' calls, absolutely heaving with sobs, weeping for it to end, for it all to end. How often he had sat down on the freezing tiles of his shower, trying to drown out his thoughts, especially after the days he wasn't able to drag himself out of bed. The days he had wanted anything _but_ to stay confined to his fucking sheets, the days all he wanted was for her to softly whisper his name, exactly in the way she used to do. The way she'd done when he was playing with her, fucking around, she'd whisper his name in the most loving way he had ever heard a woman do. Her voice was a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter what melody was playing in the background; she was all that was ever on his mind. All he wanted was for it to fucking end. 

That changed, of course, the day she'd finally awoken from her outrageous slumber, the day her pupils met his. Nothing but confusion and utter fear laced in them, he was so thankful for any form of life, he hadn't even noticed what her eyes were really telling him. Her melodic voice filled his ears, bound to echo through his head for the rest of the day, the least. "I've been better."

"That's good, that's good." His toothy smile subconsciously earned her one, too. "You, uh, you watched that show I mentioned?"

"I did!" Her fucking smile made all of it worth it, all his pain and suffering, all he had endured. It had always been just about her and her fucking smile, all along. Since they were children, he reckoned, he hadn't cared about anything as much as he cared about being the one to tug up the corners of her lips. 

A hearty chuckle left his lips, his hand slowly hovering over the side of the bed as he finally wrapped her hand in his again, this time her being the one to interlock their fingers. He smiled. "You said," He dropped his head as a giggle escaped him, "You always used to say how you'd give your life to be able to watch it again, like -uh- like it was the first time."

A low hum vibrated through her chest as she tried to hold in her snickers. "You're telling me I almost went braindead for fucking Teen Wolf?" She burst out in hiccuped laughs, trashing her legs around imperceptibly under the scratchy hospital covers. "I need to get my priorities right this time around."

His stomach tightened at her words, she'd always told him about how much she hated that stupid show, but for some reason he always caught her coming back to it any time she felt even the slightest nudge of sadness. Braindead. She was minutes away from being braindead, unsalvageable. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was sure to be subconsciously squeezing her hand a little too much. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to break the unspoken barrier he had set for himself; don't let her see you cry. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm still here."

She tugged at his hand, offering him her other one as well. He took it, obviously unable to refuse any contact she offered him. He hung over her body a little as he held both of her hands, she pulled his far most one delicately, silently asking for him to stand. And as soon as he did, she pulled him down in a hug, completely engulfing the entirety of his body in hers, only their clothes and the uncomfortable sheets separating them. She wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could as his soft sobs slowly started filling up the room. The silence was overwhelming, only his whimpers there to break through. Her eyes welled up, too, she'd lie if she said they didn't. He was holding her, wrapping his arms underneath her back, not planning on letting go anytime soon. "I'm still here, Clay."

"Are you?" He muttered against the hoodie she was wearing, his hoodie he had given to her when she'd first woken up and complained about feeling like a lab rat in her stupid gown. He had stupidly told her he would marry her even in her blue-ish hospital gown, which was the most adoring, beautiful thing a man had ever told her, especially would she have recognized him at that time. Alas, he was just a man in her room, nothing more nothing less. "Are you really?"

"I-" She stumbled on her line, completely sure of what it was he was fronting at. "I will be." She decided, "I will be soon."

"I'll wait for however long it takes." His shuddered breath made the hairs in her neck stand up straight against her skin. She closed her eyes, her face still plastered in the crook of his neck, his cologne taking over her senses, his warmth being able to make her feel safer than she had ever felt before. Her voice hadn't ever sounded as painfully vulnerable as it did that second, "It wouldn't be fair -you, for me.." A heavy breath. "It wouldn't be fair for me to expect that from you."

He hushed her gently, another sniffle leaving his nose immediately after. "All is fair in love."


	2. .. and war

"You do that a lot, you know?" She curled up in a ball on her side, glancing at the LED screen sideways. She'd been confined to this bed for a little over four months, the injuries to her head apparently so fucking impossible to figure out. It wasn't life threatening, they knew, but in what way wasn't it? She'd lost her life the second her head had made an impact with the window, the second her frail body had decided to give up on its, quite vital, functions.

His face lit up at the sound of her voice, eyes lingering on the screen a little longer than he had planned. He replied with a faint exhale. "What?"

"Worry." His brows unfurrowed the second the syllables left her mouth, his face relaxing as he opened his mouth to speak, to say anything. He closed it again soon after, realizing there was nothing he had on her. He did worry, a disturbing amount, too, perhaps. At least lately he did. No improvement for weeks will do that to any man, he reckoned. The love of his fucking life had been trapped inside her own mind for weeks with not even a glimpse of progress in peripheral.

"You're right." He nodded as his eyes slowly traced back towards the television, the new television he had finally been able to get her to allow him to get for her. He'd obviously granted himself the 'best one on the market', opting for also -coincidentally- the most expensive one. It had taken some convincing, perhaps some bribing too, to get the hospital to sign off on him entering her room with a powered drill. He was quite proud of himself for mounting it all by himself, her curious eyes following his every move as he clumsily tried to get it to just stay up. 'Bed rest' was her lazy excuse as she shrugged her shoulders provocatively. A chuckle had left his lips, his back still turned towards her as his white tee started sporting a few sweaty patches on the back.

"You don't have to do all of this for me, Clay." Her voice was barely above a whisper, his heart broke at the sound of it, like it had always done. She pulled at the strings of his heart almost menacingly with every word that left her mouth in that tone, especially.

A harsh creak screeched through the room, almost breaking his previously quite sturdy chair in the process, as he harshly turned in his seat. John the Cheapskate was long forgotten by the time her sad eyes found his, a soft glimmer to her pupils as she kept her eyes on his face, slowly tracing over his features. His voice sounded desperate as he reached for her hand, feeling limp in his. "Then let me do it all for us, instead."

A pathetic sob escaped her throat as she smiled through the immeasurable guilt that threatened to eat her from inside out. She felt it picking away at pieces of her, pieces she had only just learned how to pick up again, how to glue back to the rest. "Don't give up on this yet, _please_. I can't lose you again.." His lips stayed parted, his eyes not even daring to take a second to blink. Never had he felt the absolute terror he had felt in that second, her fingers felt so fucking cold to his touch. He could feel them slip from his in his mind, he could practically feel the emptiness overtake his being, once again urging him back to the pit he had finally learned how to climb out of.

A squeeze to his hand was all he needed from her, his lips curling at the ends at the tiny, tiny gesture. It was enough, more than enough. His mind raced back to the night he had first felt her digits cling to his again, a microscopic twitch in her fingers, barely detectable. He was sure he wouldn't have been able to notice it was he in any other situation, but God, it had been his sole focus for weeks. The absolutely elated scream that roughened up his throat for days following the incident, forced doctors and nurses originating from all over the floor to pile into her room.  
  


"I'm glad she's well, Dream. Just.. Just take care of yourself, too, okay?" George mumbled into his microphone, he was absolutely ecstatic to hear from his friend again, days of radio silence prefacing his sudden reappearance. A groan sounded from his throat, annoyed at his friend bringing this up again. This wasn't _about_ him, it never had been about _him_.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say it, don't just grunt angrily." If he wasn't so goddamn worried about his friend, he was sure to have shouted his ears off by now. However, George knew better, he knew screaming and fighting would get him nowhere with Clay, stubborn fucking Clay.

Clay rolled his eyes as his back landed against the papery wall, "I promise, okay? That good enough for you?"

"I guess." The brunette responded with disappointment laced in his words, just hoping for once to finally get him to admit something. "You-"

"Hey -uh- I have to go, man, she's back from, uh, therapy." God, when did he start feeling embarrassed about caring about his girl, about his fucking soulmate? It felt so wrong, and to be quite frank; he hated George for making him feel this way. His thumb found the end-call button hastily, almost confrontationally quick. She waved at him as she strolled through the hallway towards him, the wheels of the stroller-like device that never left her side, being connected to her veins and all that, awkwardly ticking against the tiles it passed over. He mumbled, meaning more for her to read his lips than to hear his actual tone, "Hi."  
  
  
  


"Please, Clay, please don't cry. I don't-" Her voice was rough from the sobs that had passed through her throat the last several hours. "I don't think I can take it."

His eyes were filled to the brim with melancholic tears, threatening him to spill over, to lay all his cards on the table _for_ him. "I can't help it, I'm sorry." She wouldn't be moving back in with him. She 'couldn't live someone else's life', she couldn't be trapped in the past if she didn't feel any sort of connection to it anymore. She wanted to move on, be friends, but move on. "I can't help it, I just keep thinking.."

A deep breath, his eyes forced closed, almost painfully so.

"I keep thinking about how you're going to end up with someone, and that someone isn't going to be me." Audible heartbreak echoed through her room, her empty room. She'd taken down the pictures, the drawings, the memories, and even the damned Christmas lights. Her throat closed up at the sight in front of her, he was in shambles. He was so absolutely fucking devastated to be losing her again, he was supposed to be her keeper, the one to make sure to never let anything happen to her ever again. They'd taken that from him, in fact, they had taken everything from him.

They sat on the edge of the hospital bed she would finally be leaving that week, hands clamped together tightly. For him it meant everything; reassurance that it would be okay. For her, it sadly meant nothing but bare comfort to the man -whom her mind still refused to acknowledge- sitting next to her. It stayed silent for a while, for minutes even. Only his heaving sobs and her shuddered breaths taking up the room.

"Why couldn't you just be mad at me, scream that I'm a worthless bitch or something." She joked sadly, a somber snort leaving his lips quietly.

No hesitation. "Because you're the love of my life."

Hesitation. "I'm sorry I was your soulmate, Clay, I am." Big strong breaths, a slight shake in her shoulders as if to muster up courage. "But I don't think you're mine, not anymore."

A wail escaped his lips before he could catch it, his salty tears staining his cheeks and neck, leaving wet streaks along the hem of his shirt.

"I don't know who I am without you." He put all of him in the open, completely bare and vulnerable in her presence. He had nothing to lose, not anymore, anyway.

She smiled at him sadly as his hand received another one of her infamous squeezes. "That's the problem, I think, me neither."

He couldn't take it any longer, almost panicked gasps screaming at him to just, _please_ , let it all be a dream.

His sobs gradually fainted to heavy breaths, the room still spinning around him, but now, more of a carrousel rather than whirlwind. Each of the little carriages bringing new memories to the front of his mind, all the little things he had grown to love so damn much about her.

Prom night.

Wooden playground.

New cat.

Roadtrip.

First kiss.

Disneyland.

Holding hands.

Halloween.

First fight.

Moving in.

Second kiss.

Nevada.

Parents' divorce.

Roller skating.

Graduation.

Accident. All of it made him dizzy, _she_ made him dizzy. His voice was so meek, so vulnerable, so close to another rough sob leaving his throat, however a faint smile pulled at his lips. His eyes closed in fear of what his mouth was about to ask her, in fear of it being the last thing he would say to her, in fear of closing a chapter he never wished would have reached its end. Shuddered breath, soft smile, light playfulness toying at his tone,

"We had one hell of a love story, didn't we?"


End file.
